The Last Of My Beauty
by Sophiethepegasus
Summary: This is the story of a love forbidden. It is the story of a girl who would destroy the last inch of her beauty so that her lover would feel less alone. It is the story of a boy who would stop an army for his queen. It is a story of two different races, two freaks, who turn out to be more alike than anyone could have imagined.
1. The Sibling Affliction

**Chapter 1**

**The Sibling Affliction**

The flames roared and licked at Éponine's legs as she stood by The Aztec; in the city of Flames. They were but a mild tingling in her thighs. Red leaped around her, and newcomers screamed from their houses as flames ripped from the least expected places.

Éponine's two-inch heels were just short enough to give her balance, just tall enough to draw attention to her long legs. She paused at the large mansion, hand reaching for the boiling hot metal that was the door knob. To her, though, it was a bare numbness.

Her fingers closed around it and twisted. A blast of sparks hit her in the face, but for the demon, it was old news. She walked down a long hall, then turned, ascending a set of stairs. The loud voice of her father and his men made her cringe.

As she stood before them, they stopped talking, their attention trapped by the fabric pressing against her breasts, or her legs. _Perverts, _she thought, crossing the threshold into the doorless room. Clearing his throat, Thenardier spoke up. "I see your mother's dressed you up well?"

"Yes," Éponine said, scarlet lips pursing. "I look like Eklir like this."

They shuddered as they thought of the Head Whore of the Four Sisters.

"Indeed you do. This will be good. Which one are you targeting?" Montparnasse said, his green eyes watching her closely. Éponine smiled at him. The only decent one of the lot, in her opinion. And he wasn't that decent.

"Don't know his name. He always freaks out at the slightest thing," she explained, and then mimicked her prey. "_Oh, I'm going to get tuberculosis, oh I'm going to get cancer. _A bit rude to strangers, if it weren't for how goddamn _happy _he is all the time."

"Is he rich?" asked Claquesous, leaning forward eagerly.

"I think so, judging by what he's wearing. And I don't think people of our class can afford to be picky about diseases."

Thenardier scowled at the reminder of their social standing. "Anyway, get going," he grumbled.

Smirking, Éponine turned on her heels, shoes clicking against the floor. "'Ponine," he then called.

Éponine turned her head, and struggled not to let her face twist in disgust at the man. But obviously she hid it, because he just nodded. "Say hi to your Mom for me."

"'Kay," she muttered, not really listening to what he had asked.

And thus, she walked out of a house that did not belong to her.

Even for demons, the Great Crater was almost too hot to bear. If you wanted to crawl up the sides, you'd be crawling on a million embers that were ten thousand times hotter than a fireplace.

Éponine stopped and looked up at the crack of blue sky, a tiny shatter in the Earth's crust.

Éponine's wings sprung from her back, black leather creating a large shadow against the ground. She started to transform, her pupils dilating and her fangs increasing in length.

Éponine's wings then beat, and she took to the air, fighting her way through the almost-unbearable heat, ascending from the crater. She fell upon the earth, sweat dripping from her brow.

After a brief rest, once her breath had been caught, she took to the skies once more. This time she kept herself low, watching for her prey. Eventually she caught his scent.

Éponine descended in a deserted alley. Glancing around for safety measures, she sprinted through the shadows. She stepped onto the main street, entering the world of people.

Some here were angels, and some were human. Demons were forbidden in the Upper World. But Éponine disobeyed rules all the time. A flash of brown hair caught her attention.

Chuckling in triumph, the demon-dressed-seductress walked up behind him. The fishnet stockings cut into her legs, making her limp. Seeing that the _Monsieur _was alone, she walked ahead, glanced at his pocket, and then fell back again.

She placed a foot in front of his own and he tripped. Éponine herself collided with the footpath. While he was unaware, she slipped his wallet out of his pocket, and converted it to her left hand.

Her eyes widened as she saw his face. _Marius' friend._

Preparing for anger, she winced.

"Mademoiselle, are you okay?"

Éponine froze in confusion. "Y-yes," she stammered.

His brows furrowed. "Have you grazed anything? Anything in danger of infection?"

"No."

The man sighed in relief. "That's good. Anyway, I'm Joly."

"I'm Éponine," she smiled.

Joly didn't shake her hand, he just nodded.

"I am very sorry, Mademoiselle."

"It's fine."

Éponine glanced at the wallet in her hand. Hesitating, she held it out to him. "You dropped this," she whispered.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle."

Éponine winced, because she could already feel a phantom belt buckle swatting her cheek.

Quickly, Éponine turned on her heels and ran. Joly turned back to walking to the Café.

"_You didn't get it?" _Thenardier paced the room in a rage. This was their actual house, a crappy slum, where she lacked even a bed.

The fireplace roared in the City of Perpetual Winter. Éponine was used to the cold, but it still clung to her bones at night. She watched her father, not letting any fear flow from her eyes.

"Dad, he ran away before I could get to him!" She rolled her eyes nervously.

"You're a demon, he's a motherfucking human. You are supposed to be ten times as fast!"

Éponine sighed. "You're right, I am a demon, and that was the Upper World. I'd be thrown in jail and executed."

She, at least, had a free conscience, to soothe herself.

Thenardier then turned to her, his dark eyes a mirror of her own. "You know what this means," he growled.

Éponine smiled, and got to her feet. "Hit me," she said.

Thenardier shook his head, and grabbed one of the _Thenardier _brands, which had been heating up for one of Babet's guns. Grabbing Éponine by the shoulder, he spun her around, lifted her shirt, and slammed the red-hot branding iron into her back. Éponine screeched.

A demon does not feel the heat unless it actually touches them. And in that moment, it was pressed against her very back. Tears spilled from her eyes as she heard the sizzling of her flesh.

"As punishment for not getting the money," he continued, "You will be getting an even more dangerous task. A policeman."

Éponine opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by a kick to the shins. "You will _do _it, Daughter of mine, or it'll be your _sister _getting the stick."

Éponine could only nod before her father let her drop to the ground.

That night in her room, she clutched her knees to her body, the floor freezing her once more. The wind blew snowflakes through the cracks, and frost settled on her dark hair, and turning her lips purple.

"'Ponine?" A young voice yanked her out of her dreams. Her little sister watched her out of hazel eyes.

Éponine's seductress clothes from before were discarded in the far corner of their small bedroom, traded for a large shirt Montparnasse had given her.

It was only slightly warmer than them, and it hung loosely around her body. Her scarlet lipstick was gone, along with the rest of the makeup.

Éponine looked over to where her sister sat, mirroring Éponine's position.

The eldest Thenardier crawled over to the colder mattress of her sister and wrapped her arms around Azelma.

"'Zelma?" she asked, kissing Azelma's forehead.

"Is Dad mad at you?"

Éponine could still feel the red hot iron pressing into her back, accompanied by white agony. She'd actually seen the borders of her vision blurring. She'd hoped for death.

"Only a little," Éponine lied.

"Oh. Okay." Éponine could hear the disbelief in Azelma's voice.

"It'll be a little dangerous tomorrow. That's the punishment he gave me."

"But he hurt you too," Azelma blinked.

"I know. But he always hurts us, 'Zelma. He always will. But hopefully one day I'll be able to raise you on my own."

"They don't let us do that in the Underworld. You know that."

"I like to dream."

Éponine was once again stuck in the cool of Upper Earth. For a moment she cast her eyes upwards, to the clouds upon which rested Highest Earth. She was dressed as casually as possible, a pinch of skin-coloured lip-gloss for the innocence and modesty she needed.

Ah, yes, this was what she preferred, a skin-coloured tee-shirt compared to tight seductress-clothes (as she called them).

From where she was, her prey's scent was strong, snaking into her lungs. Éponine saw that he was fast, and snuck around a short cut. Hiding in the alley, she saw him coming closer. At the last minute she walked out and pretended to be casual once more. She could see his wallet, bulging at the seams. Licking her lips, Éponine ran forward.

They collided, but Éponine gripped his wallet as he went down, quickly slipping it into her own pocket. "I'm so sorry!" she gasped.

Getting down on her knees, she clasped his hands. "Are you okay?" The feigned worry was obviously convincing because he didn't look at her suspiciously.

Suddenly his hand struck her cheek. Hard.

She swayed but stayed firm.

"Get the fuck away from me, you ugly wench," he hissed.

"I'm so sorry."

Éponine turned and walked.

"Give me back my wallet!"

She started to run.

Éponine sprinted through the streets, rainwater splashing behind her. "Thief! That's a thief!"

It took every ounce of her willpower not to fly away. If that happened, a single look would show whom she was, and to be found above the Underworld was to be executed.

She screamed. "He's lying! That asshole's a liar!"

For a moment her foot slipped, and she quickly grabbed onto the nearest signpost, lifting herself up, before turning into an alley.

It was a dead end. She hurled herself at the brick wall, and her fingers found clefts in the rough surface. Using every ounce of her upper body strength, she dragged herself up, brick scraping at her legs. Once Éponine was on the roof, she looked around her. The police were at the bottom, calling for backup. She ran slowly along the tops of the wall.

Éponine climbed even higher at the next wall. Taking care not to fall, she got to her feet at the top.

She was above the city. What looked like a million roofs lay below her, some metal, some tiled, and some marble. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, to where people had started to find the cracks, she leaped from her perch.

Hands and knees crashed into a metal roof and she dug her nails into the cold metal, the vile sound of scraping making her shudder. Getting to her feet again, she jumped from roof to roof, as though she were a bird.

A noise behind her made her startle. She whirled around and saw one of the angel police ascending from below.

Éponine scampered quickly. It was even harder not to let the leather burst from her shoulders, just above the blistering brand on her back. But if she were caught, her own region would not provide her help.

Taking a final leap, her shoes skidded on the slabs of brick. She fell, and the only thing that stopped her from severing her spine was her thick skin. As she fell, she struggled to turn herself over.

Suddenly large hands clasped her shoulders, stopping her from falling. She screamed as they set her upon the ground. At the entrance of the alley was a police car. "Get in, you'll make it easier for yourself."

"Fuck off!"

"Is that a smart thing to say?"

Éponine clawed at his arms. Finally he got her into the car.

Sighing, she crossed her arms. "It was only a little robbery!" she protested.

"You robbed a police officer, which means three days, and you clawed at him, which counts as assault. Three weeks and three days."

"No!" she screeched. She had to get out, but of course they'd locked the door.

The police car moved and she watched the buildings pass by.

Éponine, in an attempt to watch someone else's pain, went for teasing.

"Ugly place, this city is. Tell me, have you ever visited the Great Crater?"

"That place will burn you to death in a single touch, if you're human," he grumbled.

"Gee, people must _love _inviting you to parties."

"I have no time for parties. Not when we have people like _you _running around," and then he added, just loud enough for her to hear, "little demon."

Éponine fought the urge to laugh out loud. _You have no idea._

She watched him eagerly; plotting about the different ways she could ruin his life.

The anger returned as the prison came into view and she forced herself to keep a straight face as they took her mug shot, and then she was tossed into the cell.

"Fuck!" she hissed, getting up and sitting on the bed.

"This is _perfect _isn't it, 'Ponine. I bet your Papa will be so pleased. You've totally earned yourself his approval. He certainly won't be beating your sister _now, _will he?" she muttered to herself.

Resting her head on the bed, Éponine fell asleep. She wouldn't allow the nosey guards the pleasure of seeing her in distress. The only thing she worried about was her sister. Actually, Éponine had been going on two hours of sleep for about two years. There would be a lot of sleep in the weeks to come.

Or so she thought. The next day, there were footsteps in the hall, and a flashlight shone in her eyes. "Go away!" she groaned, turning over and pressing her face into the thing they called a pillow.

"Get up," someone commanded. It was the man, Tiger, the other inmates called him, because for some reason he dyed his hair orange and black. Not to mention that he had major anger issues, and in her opinion _he _should be in jail.

"What are you going to do? Take away my food? Feed me arsenic?"

"_Get up, Prisoner 406317."_

"Fine."

Éponine staggered to her feet. "Asshole," she muttered. He unlocked the gate and she walked with him down the hall. She was taken to a room and told to sit down.

Also in the room, was a man with beautiful golden curls and the deepest blue she'd ever seen. His face looked as though he had been carved from a block of marble.

Tiger turned to her. "This man has just paid for your freedom."

_"What!"_

She sat bolt upright, watching Statue carefully.

"I am one of your friend's friends," Statue explained.

"Oh."

Tiger cleared his throat. "You aren't going to protest, are you?"

Éponine shot him a glare. "After I put up such a fight about getting here? What do you _think? _Oh, I hate it here, so I'm going to refuse the outside world."

"Okay. You brought no things with you, so you can go right away."

Éponine nodded her head in thanks. Watching Statue get to his feet, she followed him.

Outside of the building, her breath caught at the sight of a red car in the parking lot.

"What's your name?" she squeaked.

He didn't even look back. All he said was, "Enjolras."

"Do you even know who I _am?"_

Enjolras shrugged. "Éponine."

She got into the passenger seat, and Enjolras turned the ignition key.

The car revved to life. The dark leather stuck to her skin, but it filled her with a kind of joy.

As the car rolled along the road ('_I can't actually drive.'_

'_What?'_

'_I said I can't drive. That's why I'm so slow)_

A few miles into the City of Alexis, Éponine then asked him. "Why did you pay to get me out of there?"

Enjolras shrugged again. "A boy called Gavroche- a gamin, in fact- told me he had seen you being taken by the police. When I asked what was so important, because people _are _being arrested every day, Joly told me that he had tripped you by accident earlier that day and you'd given him his wallet back, _even though _you could have had a fucking amazing time with the money."

Her eyes widened at the name of her brother. She had not seen him in four years. But hearing the next words, Éponine bowed her head in shame. _Dad almost did. _

The next few blocks were passed in silence. "Which way to your house?" Enjolras asked.

"I'll go myself," she said.

Sighing, Enjolras pulled up. "Fine, get out."

"Thank you, Monsieur." Politely tipping her head, she got out of the car. When he didn't leave, she frowned.

Rolling down the window, he called out, "I need to see you get home safely!"

"I'm fine, honestly! I've got people who can beat any who dare to invade my personal space!"

He tipped his head again, and in truth he looked like an angel. A terrible angel, because he looked at her with the utmost temperament of a slab of marble. "Don't get put in jail again, or I won't be able to get you out, okay?"

Smirking, Éponine nodded. "Farewell."

As he drove off, she frowned and flipped him off before turning to head home before her father knew she'd been gone.

As she crossed the threshold, she stood straighter. One who'd been there would've said she had an _aura _of defiance. In the glint of an eye, and the straightening of a spine, she had accepted the fate she would take for her sister.

Enjolras pulled into the Café's parking lot. As Courfeyrac was on the front porch, he was the first to spot Enjolras. "Ah! Old chap!" he grinned, running down the steps and throwing an arm around Enjolras' shoulder.

Enjolras gave him a glance. "Yes. It is I, your friend."

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "Always so formal."

Another voice rolled from the room. Grantaire had opened the window, too lazy to go out the front door. Of course, he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"I don't know why you bother with that car, _angel."_

Enjolras stiffened. "I'm a human," he muttered.

"Yeah, yeah!"

He walked into the Café, and was met with applause. "The God enters!" announced Combeferre.

Joly rushed over to Enjolras. "Did you get Éponine out?" he asked. "Jail cells are horrible. They gave me a chill for a week."

Marius' head shot up from the letter he was writing to his beloved. Cosette, her name was.

"Did you say Éponine?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Joly did," Enjolras groaned, watching his semi-friend over Joly's shoulder.

"Oh, she used to be a friend. She introduced me to Cosette. I haven't seen her in ages. Years. I wonder how she is. And I wonder how her sister is."

Enjolras nodded coolly. He had no interest for this young girl called Éponine. Turning his attention back to the hypochondriac, he nodded. "Yes."

Then Courfeyrac pushed Joly out of the way, before getting to his knees and pretending to worship Enjolras.

"Oh Great One. Provide us with your knowledge."

Enjolras couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

He kicked Courfeyrac gently in the arm. "Get up," he smiled, walking over to the table.

His words rolled into the wind. The revolutionaries of Upper World were laughing, while in the Underworld a young girl was screaming.


	2. His Disgrace

**Chapter 2**

**His Disgrace**

Éponine trembled as her father's gaze fell upon her. Her mouth opened slightly, but closed when she saw the complete, utter _rage _in his eyes.

"What were you thinking!"

He paced over to her, gripping her by the shoulders. "You goddamn _whore." _He spat in her face and she tried to wipe it away with her hand.

Gripping her collar, he dragged her across the floor and grabbed one of the bottles of alcohol scattered across the kitchen tabletop.

He smashed it against her head, but still she was silent. "You still don't scare me," she whispered.

"Really? I should throw you onto that fire."

Éponine planted her feet on the ground before kicking back. The impact sent her flying across the ground, slamming into the wall. Then, slowly, she got to her feet. Green blood trickled from the wound on her head. With a hiss, she walked out the door.

She walked around to the back window and crawled into her room. "'Zelms," she smirked.

Her sister squeaked. Azelma Thenardier crawled over to her. "What did Dad do to you?" That was the least of Éponine's problems, because under her sister's eye was a large bruise the size of her father's palm. Éponine's jaw set.

"Nothing major," she muttered, before scooting over to her sister. "He hit you. That's all _I _care about. I'm too much of a coward to kill him, though. So, instead, how about we tell each other about our dreams."

Azelma bowed her head. Her dark red hair fell in her face, and through it she smiled. Six years younger than Éponine, she had grown to think of her older sister as a mother. And she was a mother. She'd held her every night since the one where her birthgiver had had enough and gone off into the night.

She did not hate her mother though. She didn't hate anyone, and the only one she _hated _in this world was Thenardier, her 'father'. Not for what he'd done to her, though. For what he'd done to Éponine.

"I'm a demon," she smiled, "I'm not supposed to have dreams."

Rolling her eyes, the eldest Thenardier girl picked up Azelma, and held her to her chest, rocking the twelve-year-old.

"Fine. I'll start. I once dreamed that we'd one day fly to the moon. We'd both get a big house, and it would be full of creatures made of moondust. Imps would be our friends, and we'd all have lovely tea parties. But one time, a big monster crept up from the depths. He was big, bigger than anyone could ever imagine. And Éponine promised that she'd keep her sister safe. And so, she faced the only way she could to make sure her sister lived. And so, while her sister was asleep, her fingers crept up the side of her sister's belly."

She re-enacted this, and felt the twitching of Azelma's belly. "And then- she tickled her little sister into space."

Azelma squealed with delight as her big sister tickled her. "That's – kind of- like us in real life. Dad's- the monster," she said between laughs.

Éponine fought the sadness in her eyes, because she didn't understand how her little sister could say that with a large smile on her face. Of course, Éponine knew her sister didn't feel grief. The years of dresses and dolls had vanished from her sister's tiny hands before she could catch a glimpse.

Éponine remembered it, though. She remembered it and clung to those memories like a balloon string. She caught them and put them in a cage. Éponine's only delights nowadays were those memories, and when she gave them to her little sister. For Azelma, they were dreams and stories, fragmented stars on which to hope and dream and pray, but for Éponine they were buildings, large mansions and small cottages where she could be safe.

Éponine pressed her lips to Azelma's temple. "What are you going to do about your wound?" Azelma asked, her large eyes gleaming up at Éponine. The smile remained, and her dimples were like little dams and those dams held all of her big sister's love.

"I'll stitch it up, somehow," Éponine grinned, clinging to her sister's small frame. "After you're asleep though. I don't want you hearing too much."

Azelma sighed. "Where were you, anyway?"

"No concern of yours. Mom made me stay the night." Whisper-soft fingers brushed through Azelma's hair. The auburn-haired girl's smile widened so that her teeth showed.

Suddenly Azelma's smile dropped, replaced by thoughtfulness. "'Ponine?" she asked.

"Mmmm?"

"Why did Mom hate us?" The words were horrible enough on their own, but the thing that was most disturbing was that it was said without any grief, not even any anger. It was said as though it was a thought that passed Azelma's mind regularly.

"She doesn't hate us. She just couldn't handle Dad."

Éponine still remembered her parents' final argument, clear as day. She'd seen her mother, orange hair matted down her back, the eyes that had been passed down to Azelma blazing. _"You fucking bastard. You never do anything right! And I'm sick of these fucking kids clinging to my legs every hour of the day. I'm _done. _I'm leaving!"_

Madame had disappeared to her room and come out with a full suitcase, going off into the night without so much as a backwards glance.

Éponine guessed that Madame had changed her mind, as Éponine often visited her 'mother', although it was usually to turn her into someone she was not. Éponine sighed as Azelma closed her eyes, and her breathing slowed. After a few minutes, she lay her sister down and went into the kitchen, where Thenardier was passed out against the floor.

"Pig," she snarled under her breath. Éponine exited the house, into the freezing night. Glancing up, there were no stars, only a rich black. Heaving a sigh, she watched as the bus for the City of Despair trudged along toward her. It stopped, and the demon inside, a man with a moustache and a smile stopped.

"Demoness?" he asked, an accent of some sort oozing over his words.

"Yes. I need to go to the City of Despair. As you can see, I tripped and fell."

The man nodded and Éponine heaved herself onto the bus. The bus took off again. In complete silence they went, until the dark shape of the City of Despair came into view. "This is your stop. Hope your wound gets better."

The streets were empty and desolate, but for Éponine that was not much of a change. Keeping her arms around herself for warmth, she tried to block out the silence. To herself she sang a lullaby she had once sung to her brothers, when the sounds of smashed bottles rung in their ears; when the only thing they could really make out was that there were two people fighting in the other room.

"_Nightingale, nightingale, I saw you for sale,_

_Wept and cried bitter tears; you'd never looked so frail,_

_Took a key, opened your cage, in case you were afraid,_

_Nightingale, nightingale, how is freedom made?"_

Over and over again she sang these lyrics, her bare feet scraping at the cobblestones. She sung it until she came to her mother's front door. With a sharp knock, she awaited her mother's appearance. The door was opened by a woman aged by stress, but clinging to the fragments of her youth.

Éponine gave her mother a sharp nod. "I need to stitch my wound. Mom."

She stepped into the light of her mother's home. It was a red glow, deadly and vibrant. It flickered on the walls thanks to the fireplace.

Madame Thenardier led her daughter over to a chair. "Sit down, darling."

Éponine glared at her mother's back. How dare she call her _darling _after she left them behind! After she'd provoked her youngest daughter to think those things, even though she could barely remember her face!

Madame took a stitching needle. "This should help."

Her daughter winced as she pulled the stitches through.

"Thanks, Mom."

"It's no problem. Oh, and darling? How's your sister?"

Éponine turned to her mother. "Even without you, she's okay. Even though she knows you don't love her."

Madame, who had finished stitching Éponine's wound, stepped back. "Oh, I do love her though."

The Thenardier daughter jumped to her feet. "No. If you did, you'd _call. _If you did, you'd have taken us with you. But of course, you're fed up with having a _fucking kid _clinging to your leg, aren't you? I'm sorry. Thank you, Mother."

In a rage, Éponine left the house and was grateful when she reached the City of Perpetual Winter.

The next day was her night off. Still, though, she went to Upper Earth. However, this time, she was dressed as herself, no makeup from her mother. Her clothes were her own, ripped and torn, made to fit a fourteen-year-old. A cap rested upon her head, hiding her scar.

Now, for some reason, her attention was caught by a tall wooden building, golden light radiating on the street below. Like a moth, Éponine darted to the front door. Her hand rested on the metal, hesitating before turning it and entering the warmth.

She decided she liked this type of warmth. It was unlike the screeching hot of the Underworld, friendlier and more welcome.

Her attention was caught by a number of voices laughing and joking. Quietly she ascended the stairs, until she stood before them. She sighed in relief when no one noticed her.

Éponine walked over to the back corner, sitting down in the shadow.

Suddenly multiple voices turned into only one. Her golden eyes searched for the one speaking, and found- none other than the man who had gotten her out of jail yesterday.

His eyes briefly skimmed over hers, before continuing his speech.

"Pssst!" hissed the voice of a young boy. Éponine froze.

"Gavroche?" she asked, without looking him in the eye.

"Yep!" he whispered, "The one and only!"

Without a moment of hesitation, she turned and wrapped him in a hug. "I haven't seen you in years!" she gasped.

"Not true. You've seen me plenty. I've been keepin' my eye on you, though."

Éponine laughed, and let him sit on her lap. She watched Enjolras over his shoulder. "Mademoiselle," he paused. "Only men are allowed in the Café."

She sneered at him. "Bitch please."

"Éponine!" exclaimed a voice that could only belong to Marius, the man she'd once been infatuated with.

Her head whipped around. "You recognised me? Well, bravo for you."

"How are you? Did you know Cosette and I were getting married?"

"Yes. Yes, I did Marius."

Éponine rolled her eyes. It was hard to miss in the newspapers people dropped at her and her family's door, rubbing their wealth in the Demon's faces.

She raised her eyes, and froze. Enjolras stood there, arms folded. "What are you doing here?"

A normal creature would've whimpered in fear. They would've run from the Café and never returned, terrified by the blue flames that flickered in Enjolras' eyes. Not Éponine, though. She was not afraid of him, or anyone. So, instead of running or screaming, she laughed in his face. "Pretty boy, what are you afraid of. It's cold out there, and it's a Café. So there'd probably be great booze." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

A man with curly, dark locks laughed. "There is!"

"You're not helping, Grantaire," hissed Enjolras.

Éponine tipped her head in defiance. It was as though she were a queen, a dark and terrible regality that possessed her. "Enjolras. You think I fear you. You think that just because I am a woman I will run from your meetings. But I do not fear you. So, go back to your speech, please."

"Éponine," he hissed.

"My presence is none of your concern."

In a huff, he walked back to the table, but being slightly distracted, his speech came out less fluently.

Éponine yawned, suddenly, and all eyes went across her. "Don't mind me," she smirked, "Just a little tired."

Anger flushed Enjolras' cheeks. He glanced around the room, at the people he called his men. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly. And even Grantaire could be considered one of his men.

Turning his attention back to her, he resumed his speech. "What they don't know is that people are in danger. Criminals in Upper Earth, demon pickpockets. Crime rates are higher than they've been in two centuries…" Somehow her apparent boredom had reenergised his speech, turning it into a living, breathing thing. But, as he mentioned demons, Éponine's hand flew up to her forehead.

A deep pain drove through her skull, beating inside her mind. She held the bridge of her nose. "Damn," she muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Do you _need _to keep interrupting me? At least show some gratitude."

Éponine raised her golden eyes. Her lips curled up in a smile, but it was uncertain and scared.

She pushed Gavroche gently off her lap. Rising to her feet she looked Enjolras dead in the eye. "Fuck you."

"No thank you."

The pain in her head ached more and more. Frowning, she set her lips.

"This isn't good," she whispered.

Gavroche glanced up at her. "Your head's hurting," he observed.

Reaching up, he grabbed her cap and yanked it off. With a little cry, Éponine snatched it back and put it on her head. "Any drugs for a headache. My stitches are hurting pretty bad. I… slipped and cut my head on the edge of a table."

She could feel the disbelief projecting from the men around her. Enjolras nodded. "Joly, get the first-aid."

Éponine sat down in the chair again, holding the bridge of her nose in her fingers, she made herself breathe slowly.

A few minutes later, Joly returned with a white bag. "Let me check your stitches."

Once again the cap was off, exposing the short line of stitches. "My Mom did the stitches."

"Not too well of a job."

"I'm not getting new stitches."

"Okay."

Somehow no one paid attention to Joly wrapping a white bandage around her head.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I owe you, Monsieur Joly."

Joly laughed. "I'm a medic. You don't owe me anything."

After his speech, as the men started to filter out of the house, Enjolras turned to Éponine. "Do you need me to drive you home?"

Éponine paused. "Uh… yes, please. But you don't need to. I can walk."

Enjolras shook his head gently. "There are more demons on the street than ever."

Éponine blushed. "They're not all bad," she whispered. "Like Gavroche."

"He's not a demon!" Enjolras exclaimed.

"I should know. He's my brother," she laughed. But then she stopped. Because she knew what that would mean for her. All colour drained from her face. "Oh god."

"That means… that means you are…"

"No. I'm not. Okay, maybe. Yes. But I'm not evil."

Enjolras shook his head gently. "Fucking Hell. What are you doing here? You know you could be executed for breaking the rules of border crossing."

Éponine nodded. "How could I forget? And I wanted to see the stars tonight."

Enjolras watched her closely. "You're brave."

"Not really."

"I'm still taking you home," he said.

Éponine bowed her head, hiding her face from view.

They left the Café, and Grantaire's voice rang out, woken from a drunken slumber. "Take care of him, Éponine!"

She turned around and flipped him off. "You take care of the alcohol for me!"

She could hear his deep chuckle as she got into Enjolras' car. However, it soon became apparent that they were nowhere near the Great Crater. But Éponine said nothing. She pressed on the window button and let the wind whip her face. "I've never been in an Upper Earth city that wasn't the City of Alexis."

"I'm taking you another way so no one sees us," Enjolras muttered.

After a few hours of silence, the car pulled to a stop. Éponine opened the door, but saw none of the sand that coated the ground near the Great Crater.

Éponine gave Enjolras a confused look, and then hopped out the car. There wasn't even a sound, only the whisper of the wind, threading itself through the grass. There were a few trees scattered over a grassy field, overlooking a large lake. The moonlight shimmered over the depths. Éponine went up to the summit of a small hill, on which the trees stood.

Enjolras followed her.

"Why did you bring me here?" Éponine asked. "I've done nothing for you."

Enjolras shrugged. "I fight for equality. I want Demons, Humans and Angels to be able to coexist. I want to be able to fulfil others' dreams. If I can't do that, I should at least do this."

Éponine watched the millions of stars that looked down upon her in silence. They gleamed. Then she tipped her head back and laughed. A raw, dark laughter that shook the mountains. "So, you're a Demon?" Enjolras then asked. There was nothing suspicious in his eyes.

The laughter died in Éponine's throat. "Unfortunately," she snarled. "And you can't judge me. You're a human. You have no idea what it's like to be a monster, what it's like to be feared. Even if you were an Angel, they wouldn't fear you, for you are inherently good."

He seemed to be battling some inner demon before he spoke again. "We're both freaks," he whispered.

"How are _you _a freak, other than your Revolutionary streak?"

Suddenly Enjolras grabbed a fistful of his own shirt. He pulled it over his head. Éponine's breath seemed to trip over itself.

Two white stumps on his shoulder blades. Two white stumps that should've formed into angel wings. He bowed his head in shame. "Even Angels can be terrible," he bit out.

Éponine decided not to ask about their origin. "Put your shirt back," she whispered, "They hurt you."

Enjolras snorted. "Who? The things on my back? They do not hurt me."

"If you say so-"

"They disgust me."

Enjolras slipped his shirt back on. He smiled at her then. "That went too deep for my liking."

Éponine shrugged. "I don't mind. I can forget if you like."

She chuckled. She let her legs fold underneath her, and she rested against the grass, her eyes were once again focused on what lay above her. "Highest Earth must have a wonderful view," she whispered to herself. Éponine almost reached out for the moon. She almost felt like spreading her wings and flying away to outer space. But to fly there would to be seen and gunned down.

Enjolras nodded. "They do. But they don't know what they have until they're exiled."

Éponine smiled at him not with pity, but with envy. "I'd gladly be kicked out of the Underworld if I could bring my sister."

"I had a brother as well."

"Had?" Éponine inquired.

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

The Demoness would've usually reprimanded him, but within him she sensed a vulnerability that ran deep to his bones, shaking his mind.

Éponine's mind ran to her own brothers. She gnawed at her lip when she thought of the youngest two. With no idea of what had become of them, she kept her mind on other things. There was a dark silence in her mind. "Gavroche was keeping an eye on me the whole time. And I never knew."

Éponine's fingers played with the grass, pulling and tugging, knotting it. Despite the fact that she wanted to stay forever, the thought that she had to go home strained at her mind. Suddenly she got to her feet. "Goodbye, Enjolras. I'll see you soon?"

When she was met with no response, she faced the overhang. Dark wings burst from her back, leathery and dark. They created a silhouette against the moon. She was a truly awesome sight, terrifying and magnificent. "Yes, Enjolras," she said, "I _am _terrible, more terrible than you will ever be."

She fell forward, and he ran to the edge only to see the rocks parting around her body. And she had gone, as though she was never there at all.

All Enjolras could see for the next few hours was her, rocks moving like liquid, swallowing her whole, sparks flying as the claws on her wings grazed against the sides of the cavern. They flew into his face and they burnt slightly.

Enjolras frowned. He pushed his golden curls away from his face. As his car once again was driving on the tarmac road, he thought about her. He knew she probably wouldn't come back to the Café. But if she did, would he talk to her?

Even talking to a Demon was punishable by death. Or worse, torture. The High King, Valeus, was merciful for all except those that lived below. Even _he _was terrible. When the wheels of the red car finally stopped spinning outside his apartment, he stayed still for a bit, breathing deeply. Then he got out of the car. He walked calmly into the building. Due to his parents being part of the Aristocracy, they had given him _something _to live in. And it had been quite a fancy apartment when he'd first gotten it. His parents thought it would be _the most shameful thing _to live in something less than extravagant. But Enjolras had never been one to entertain their desire for perfection. He'd sold it all, and given the money to charity.

Now there was a twin bed with a bedside table, a couch, and a moderate-sized television. Other than that there was a kitchen, of course, in which he was decent at cooking, and a bathroom.

Enjolras, completely and utterly tired out by the day, still didn't go to his bed. He grabbed a book, on which the title had completely faded, the only visible thing on the cover being the author: Sébastion VeLeur.

Enjolras slipped under the covers of his bed and started reading about another dimension, full of talking gargoyles, and beautiful gypsies.

After a few minutes, he was too tired to function. Placing the book on the floor, he turned off his bedside light and fell asleep.

_A little boy named Philip grins at Enjolras. Of course this is Philip Enjolras, so they are brothers. 'Big brother, I'm bored.'_

_With a half-hearted sigh, Enjolras takes Philip's hand in his own. "I'll take you to the horse yard. Jacobah will probably let us ride."_

_They are then in a stable made of marble. But they are already on their steeds. His is a horse stained chestnut, and his name is Rodriguez, and Philip's is a grey mare named Elexa. _

_Rodriguez trots into the corral, his golden bit clinking between his teeth. Enjolras canters him a few times in a circle, and then guides him to a jump. Rodriguez sails over the jump, and his hooves dig into the sand. Enjolras breathes gently. On a horse he is at ease. Suddenly, Rodriguez stops, ears back in nervousness. "Woah, boy," Enjolras whispers. He wheels Rodriguez around and guides him to the gate of the corral. "Your turn to warm up. Meet me in the paddock later," he tells Philip, and he opens the gate. _

_Rodriguez senses freedom and bucks. Enjolras mutters a harsh _'No,' _under his breath. Rodriguez's hooves beat against the grass in a gallop. Enjolras grips Rodriguez's halter. In five minutes, they sail over the fence of the paddock. The other horses watch them. The rain from the night has made the grass green. But it makes the dirt turn into mud. Enjolras tightens his grip on the reins, giving Rodriguez a short rein._

_Despite the shrill whinnies of the other horses, he can't hear anything except Rodriguez's breath coming in short wheezes. Suddenly the chestnut jolts to a stop. Uneasily, the stallion puts a hoof forward, into the mud. And he slips. Enjolras sails over Rodriguez's face, and the stallion rears, frightened by the lack of vision in his right eye. Thinking Enjolras is an enemy; he makes himself bigger than necessary. _

_Enjolras tries to roll over, but a hoof comes down- in the middle of his shoulder blades!_

_The picture fades into a hospital room. The doctor tells his parents that there'll need to be an amputation, but they should feel lucky that their son isn't a paraplegic. Enjolras does not feel lucky, as he is no longer a full-blooded Angel._

_He catches a glimpse of a fancy apartment before he's back in the hospital and he's older. _"_But Angels don't get sick!'" his hysterical mother cries. "And they certainly don't die from it!"_

_"Unfortunately, this disease is tuberculosis, and something in your son has made him immune to the treatment. Unfortunately, your son is… gone."_

_Enjolras feels a hand on his shoulder. His head turns and he sees Éponine, standing before him. "What are you doing in my dream!" he cries._

_"I don't know," she says. "I just wanted to say sorry. And thank you for letting me see the stars."_

_Enjolras feels tears gathering in his eyes. Éponine, smiling sadly, leans forward and presses her lips to Enjolras' forehead. "I know this doesn't help much," she whispers, "But carry on."_

_"Thank you, Éponine."_

Enjolras' eyes flashed open and he rolled out of bed. "What the fuck!" he cried.

He got to his feet shakily. He was confused, and scared by this sudden appearance in his dreams. What did Éponine think she was _doing, _sneaking into them, into his memories, into the cracks? Why was she trying to make him feel better, kissing him on the forehead, and why, _why _could he still feel her lips tingling against his skin?

Nothing made sense.

Least of all her.

Enjolras arrived at the Café with no expectations. But there was the slight hope that a certain Demoness would be there. Not because he was attracted to her. It was a more pure thing. It was the fact that she was the only one who had ever seen his once-wings. The only one who actually knew what it was like to be an outcast.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so lonely.


End file.
